Note from the Writer: Sorry for the stupid-long wait. Sometimes, you just want to lay back and have sexy fantasies for six months without worrying about your prose... but not anymore. Now, all my self-love includes spell-check.
BTW: There is a lot of sex in this chapter, so if you like wordy descriptions of oral sex... break out the tissues.
Chapter Twelve
Leda slept deeply that night and when she woke up she was falling. It was not her dreams. She felt herself spiralling into a gyre of pleasure, moaning desperately as her eyes shot open. Brandon was watching her, his blue eyes bright as his fingers played in the dampness between her legs. A few more quick circles around her most sensitive flesh was all it took. Her body arched away from the ground and she came.
Brandon kissed her neck as she caught her breath, her eyes closed as the final ripples of pleasure moved through her. When she felt his body cover hers, his hands moving her thighs apart, she moved her lips to his, parting his mouth so she might slip his tongue inside him.
It was a quick, intimate coupling. He kissed her as his entered her, and his cheeks brushed against hers as he thrust in and out. As he came closer to his release, he moved his fingers between them and played with her bud again until she cried out, shaking underneath him as she came again. He pushed into her harder than, and gave her one last kiss before he pulled out of her, spilling his seed on her belly.
He wiped her off with his shirt before collapsing beside her, laying down as soon as Leda shot up.
"It's time to ride," she threw his shirt at him. "Get dressed."
Brandon groaned and sat up. "I'll ride, but not in that shirt."
Leda stepped into her dress, but her promptness was foiled by the gown's complex laces. She contorted her arms around her back, trying desperately to find some way to tighten the thing around her.
"Here, let me," Brandon stood up, unaffected by his own nakedness.
"It's fine," Leda said, still struggling. "It came off easily enough."
"But putting it back on is always the hard part isn't it?"
He came behind her and straightened her dress in one aggressive movement. She could feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck as, with a few harsh tugs of the lace, he tied her into the fabric.
It made no sense for Leda to feel vulnerable in that moment. She had decided to trust him, she had even told him she loved him, but feeling his strong hands cage her in the thick fabric made her feel small and helpless. Was she so stupid that she couldn't lace her own dress? Was he so much more worldly that he knew more about everything, including women's clothes?
"You know if you're too sore to ride," Brandon tied the knots around her tightly, and smiled. "I'd be happy to sling your over my knee."
Leda looked at him sideways, summoning glint of fire in her eyes. "I don't know who told you it was attractive to be smug, but I disagree with him."
"Don't pretend you don't think I'm attractive," Brandon turned her body to face him. "And of course I'm smug. Look at you."
He leaned down to kiss her, but Leda dodged his lips.
"When you act like won something, I feel like I've lost something." Leda took the laces from her hand, and tied the dress herself, leaving enough room for the fabric to move comfortably. "And I don't like losing."
"Then stop seeing me as a rival," Brandon caught her as she tried to walk away, spinning her towards him again, holding her fast has she tried to wriggle out of his grip. When she stopped fighting him, he brought his hands to her waist, his fingers resting on the curve of her hip. "And I am not the kind of man who thinks you should feel shame in pleasure. That's not me. You've mistaken me with someone else."
Of course, he wasn't Gerald. But he was still a man.
She leaned towards him then, wrapped her arms around his neck. Then, standing on her toes, she kissed him.
Brandon returned the kiss her hungrily, but stopped as she soon as she began to she pressed her body against his cock, which has stiffened under his breaches.
"We do need to get moving," he pressed his hands against her shoulders.
"Then put on your clothes."
***
As soon as they left their camp behind them, they fought. It felt bizarrely comforting to bicker with Brandon. When it was their ideas that clashed, Leda felt on firm footing, much more his equal than when they fought with their bodies.
Ned wanted to meet them at the west peninsula, a common place for Rangers to gather, being easy to find and defend against Highland raids. But it was too public for Leda. Showing her face made it all the more likely for her trade to be sacked, or for her to be taken to a caravan. He could go to the peninsula to meet Ned. She would take Horace home.
"What if they're already there?"
"If they are, they're not alone."
"What do you mean?"
Leda choose her words carefully.
"I couldn't leave my animals without someone to feed them," she took a breath. "And Rob couldn't very well leave."
"The highlander is still in your cottage?" Brandon's voice was low, controlled.
"He couldn't leave."
"Because we'd hunt him down and kill him like an animal?" Brandon brought his horse closer to hers. "That animal killed my Rangers."
"In order to escape slavery in the mines, yes. You would have done the same thing."
"I would never be a slave. I'm an Outlander."
"I am an Outlander too, and I was a slave until I escaped."
"He killed Rangers."
"And now Rangers are coming to kill me."
Leda kicked her heels, bringing Horace out in front of Beast until Brandon was forced to stop his horse.
"You say this man is a killer? Fine," Leda continued to block Brandon as he tried to move around her. "Maybe he'll kill for me."
"Why would he do that?"
"I saved his life."
"And I saved your life," Brandon said angrily. "I've been saving your life everyday for five years by keeping your secret and keeping you safe."
"You brought your Rangers to me for a reason. I gave you food, I gave you a place to sleep. A connection to goods from Cliffhouse that the Generals would have never allowed. It was your secret too. And now look at what your men, your Rangers, are trying to do!"
Leda didn't know why she was yelling at him. Whatever they had originally disagreed about felt far away. She took a moment to calm herself, and brought her voice down
"Brandon, I'm going home. Rob will help us. I promise.
"How can you be so sure?" Brandon's eyes penetrated hers. "He doesn't know you."
"He does, in a way."
"Not my way."
"Well, you're right about that," Leda smiled softly. "You don't have to trust him. You just have to trust me."
Brandon nodded silently, and Leda brought out of his way.
"Tell Ned thank you for me." She said.
"Make arrangements, I'll be at your cottage by nightfall."
He met her eyes and for the first time ever, she saw fear in them.
"I feel like I should ask you to kiss me."
She smiled and did what he asked, bringing Horace close, and leaning over to touch his lips softly with her own. He held the back of her head and kissed her deeply. Like it was the last time.
"Take care on the road," Leda's voice was low, unsteady. "Don't die."
"Of course not, I'm a survivor," He smiled that funny half smile. "Like you."
***
It was midday when she reached her barn, and Leda was relieved to see it standing. She had beat whomever was coming. As she rode up to her property, she could hear the bleating of goats, and when she entered her barn she noticed it looked... different somehow. She looked to her feet, and noticed that the ground was covered in a new, dry bed of hay. Everything was dry; No drainage problem.
She took her time giving Horace and the other horses food and water. Then she explored the property tentatively. Everything seemed in good order. The goats where clean and fed, the chickens were not surrounded by eggs and the crops appeared to have been watered. It was a sunny day, and everything around her seemed idyllic. The only thing breaking the pastoral tableau was a loud thumping sound at the back of the cottage.
She rounded the corner to see Rob splitting wood with an ax. He wore nothing but his ratty breeches, and his body glistened with sweat in the sunlight. He was huge, and hairy, standing barefoot as he wielded the ax effortlessly. Leda's mind went to her old stories once more. Here was Herakles, a demi-God among men - something bigger than more powerful than a human, bursting out of a human skin.
You are begging to be mounted and fucked.
What would it be like to be mounted fucked by this man? This monster? Part animal, art God?
Rob saw her looking at him and stopped, mid-swing, putting his ax to the side as he wiped sweat off his brow.
"You're back," he said. His voice was gruff, deep.
"Yes," Leda inched closer, afraid to approach him with any sudden movements. "You should wear shoes when you're swinging an ax."
He grunted. "The ax goes where I tell it to."
Rob watched as she approached him tentatively, and he felt his body humming once again.
